Either I Really Hate You or I Want to Get Married

This whole episode is further support of my theory that a three-year-old is really just a very small teenager. The past few days have been, well, let me be frank, hell-ish.

Every day, barely veiled anger directed at me, tantrums, clenched fists and the occasional "I hit you because I'm angry at you, Mommy." I concluded that I just can't do this anymore - this whole raising kids thing. Maybe it's time to get a job and let someone else raise my three-year-old because I am doing such a crap job of it. Let's face it, I think he hates me.

Then last night Oscar tells me that he wants to marry me. Why, I ask. He says "Because I love you soo much and you are the best lady in the whole world."

How can these two strongly opposite emotions coexist in a three-year-old? Sure, the books say this is a developmentally normal stage. I say he's a teenager in a tiny body. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts smoking next week.

p.s. the baby is not sandwich

Time has flown away into a vortex and I haven't posted here in seven months. The "Baby" in the blog title has a name now, and it isn't "Sandwich" as Oscar suggested. It is in fact, August. The "Tornado" is a big brother and seems very OK with the new family scenario, except when the baby cries very loudly. But nobody likes it when the baby does that. I should be honest, we still call him "Baby" more than we call him anything else. And a nickname has yet to emerge as the clear winner.